


We'll Have A Grand Ol' Time

by doodleferp



Series: Warhammer: Renegades [1]
Category: Warhammer Fantasy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Archery, Blood and Gore, Chaotic Dumbassery, Comedy, Comedy of Errors, Daemons, Dark Comedy, Dumbasses, Dwarves, Fantasy, Gen, Goblins, Greenskins, Hybrid Characters, Inspired by Real Events, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, LGBTQ Characters, Magic, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Orcs, Racism, Skaven, Sporadic Updates, Strong Friendships, Typical Warhammer Violence, Violence, bad language, mild nudity, strange anatomy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23161030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodleferp/pseuds/doodleferp
Summary: renegade (ˈrenəˌɡād)nouna person who deserts and betrays an organization, country, or set of principles.a person who abandons religion; an apostate.a person who behaves in a rebelliously unconventional manner.Join Abbi, Oroch and Iris, three chaotic dumbasses with divine power-ups, as they set out across the land to tear Chaos a new one.Based on a role play I did with my friends in high school. Meant to be a more lighthearted, fun side of the Warhammer world. Updates will be sporadic as ADHD is a prison I am locked in for life.
Series: Warhammer: Renegades [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664920
Kudos: 2





	We'll Have A Grand Ol' Time

**Author's Note:**

> Before we begin, I would like to say that this story/fanfiction/whatever you want to call it is just for fun. I've put way more work into this one than I think I have ANY fan work, and I'm really proud of how far this thing has come in terms of development.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigvald the Magnificent decides to pester a trio of travelers. What happens next is… interesting, to say the least.

Welcome to the world of Terra.

This was once a world of purity and splendor. An ice-clad jewel in the heavens, slowly nurtured into a paradise by beings older than Time. To look upon this world was to witness unknowable races made real. Lush vistas of dense jungle swathed the lands, winged lizards swooped lazily through the multicoloured mists. White-crested mountains soared through gossamer clouds to graze the heavens, their uncharted depths shot through with thick veins of precious metal. Oceans blue as sapphires caressed the lands under endless turquoise skies. Temple-cities thrived across the globe, their denizens as ordered as cogs in a divinely fashioned machine. For a while, the world knew harmony.

And then came Chaos.

Where there was once beauty is now a vision of insanity. Crumbling faces of ancient kings, hewn from granite cliffs in aeons past, speak backwards lies devised solely to plunge their subjects into madness. Endless forests of gnarled and sentient trees grab and strangle those that stray too close, their branches decorated with throttled corpses. Towering citadels of bone and sinew burst upwards from the ground at the command of cackling mages. The parched lands crack and split to reveal mass graves, moaning faces, hissing lava. Monstrous terrors prowl the wilderness in search for fresh meat.

Every second, members of all races fall to the threat of Chaos -- brothers turn upon brothers, fathers turn upon sons; and the only way to be able to survive is to dedicate your very existence to the destruction of Chaos, or surrender your soul to an eternal life of glorious damnation.

Sigvald the Magnificent, Geld Prince and lover of all things beautiful and pleasurable, was one of those who surrendered his soul. He came from arguably humble beginnings -- having been disowned by his father, and being forced to wander the bitter North and scrape by anything he could just to be able to have something to ward off starvation. One day, however, his prayers were answered. He was visited by the Dark Prince, and, in exchange for his soul, was given the power to take anything he wanted. Entire kingdoms would fall with a mere flick of his wrist. Jaded and capricious in the extreme, he strove to discover new depths of cruelty in his conquests. He inspired fanatical devotion in his followers, for they knew that in the aftermath of battle, they would be able to sate their most unholy lusts without restraint.

At this very moment, the Champion of Slaanesh was surveying his fortress from his bedroom balcony. The Geld Castle was his ultimate pride -- he had spent many hot summers, chilling winters, and horrendously-humid springs building up this magnificent stronghold. It was the ultimate totem to the forces of Slaanesh -- a shimmering palace with shimmering walls, able to blind any ground or aerial attacks. It was filled to the brim with Chaos Warriors -- soldiers dedicated to spreading the glory of Slaanesh by any means necessary.

It was moments like these that he secretly adored. While he very much enjoyed the raucous cries of debauchery that graced his ears almost hourly, he enjoyed indulging moments to himself, where he could reflect on all of his accomplishments that made his most unholy father proud and plan out new ones that would earn him ever more favor. Unfortunately, much to his anger, the Geld Prince was interrupted from his brooding by one of his Mirror Guards bursting into the room. “My Lord-”

“What is it?” the Champion cut in, rather disinterested in the ramblings of a guard at this particular point in time. “I hope you have a good explanation for interrupting me. My time is valuable, and if you do not give me an adequate answer.”

The Mirror Guard stood at attention. “M-my apologies, My Lord.” he said. “The lookouts have spotted a trio of squatters near the fortress borders. They appear to have been there for quite some time.”

Sigvald arched an eyebrow. Squatters? On  _ his _ land? That didn’t sound right. Nobody in their right mind would  _ dare _ to come within ten feet of his precious fortress. “Squatters, you say?” he asked. “What do they look like? Anyone we might convert?”

The Mirror Guard knit his brow, trying to remember just what he’d seen. “I don’t know for sure, My Lord.” he said. “The other two definitely appear human. But one of them is most definitely an orc.”

Sigvald’s eyes became as big as bowls the second the word orc came from the soldier’s lips. He hated orcs. He  _ despised _ Greenskins of every kind, but he acquired a particular animosity for orcs. They were such dirty, disorderly, disgusting creatures; with their violent and undignified excuses for warfare, not to mention their unseemly, unsightly appearances. And not to mention their greasy skin -- green was such an  _ awful _ color. No orc was going to set foot anywhere  _ near _ his land. Even if they weren’t technically on his land.

He narrowed his brow. “Well, what are you doing about it?” he demanded.

The soldier took a few steps back. He didn’t know why he wasn’t expecting his master to react, but he was. He knew how much his master despised orcs. “Well, My Lord, it didn’t seem like they were causing any trouble.” he said. He scratched his head. “In fact, they’re actually packing up their things to leave. We didn’t think it important enough to be mentioned right away-”

With a flick of his master’s wrist, the soldier’s head fell to the ground with a wet, sickening  _ thud. _ Sigvald scowled to himself. “Squatters. I  _ hate _ the things.” He strode across the room. “Sickening, simpering scoundrels.” He drew his treasured rapier. “Well, we’ll see what they have to say when they’re looking down your business end, won’t we, sweet Sliverslash?” 

After taking a moment to admire his reflection in the perfectly-polished steel, Sigvald slid his treasured rapier back in its sheath and exited his chambers. There waiting for him were several members of the Mirror Guard, his elite bodyguards. “I am going into the forests to evict some squatters.” he proclaimed. “Five of you will come along so we may outnumber them. The rest shall stay behind unless given order to follow.”

He strode away from them, and suddenly remembered the decapitated body at his doorway. “Oh,” he ordered. “And get a maidservant to clean that up. I want it spotless when I return.”

The Guards saluted him, five of them dispersing from the group to follow their prince.

  
  


Sigvald travelled at the head of the pack, using one of his guard’s swords to hack away any vegetation that had the misfortune of getting in his way. The ground itself reshaped itself to let the Champion pass, although it seemed a bit unnecessary as his feet floated an inch above the ground (a necessary precaution. His boots could never be touched by the mud and gore of his surroundings).

“My Lord,” One of the guards pointed to a set of disturbed bushes. “There.” Sigvald followed his soldier’s arm and stepped through the bushes. It was there he was greeted with a clearing, and, sure enough, a campsite. There was a triad of tents there, and a spot where a fire had most likely been burning the night before.

And, like the lookout had said, three travellers stood in the clearing, working together to dismantle their campsite. The first was a human woman, taller than most, with reddish-brown hair cascading down her back in a braid that, for an odd reason, lost its red coloring and turned into a soft green color as it got further down her body. She had a bow and sling of arrows on her back and a golden earring in her nose.

The second appeared to be another human woman -- but she was much, much smaller than her companions, and looked very out of place next to them. She had a hood over her head and a shield strapped to her back, and she carried herself in a very mature manner as she tore down one of the tents.

The third was, to his disgust, a tall burly orc. He was actually quite thin by orc standards, and he had the audacity to dress himself as if he were human -- piercings in his ears and nose, a body-length cloak tied around his neck, and even unsightly war paint on his ears and feet.

Sigvald’s mood immediately soured at the sight of the tall green beast. “You there.” he snapped. The orc stopped and looked up at the troupe of soldiers, confused. “What in  _ Slaanesh’s _ name are you wearing?”

The orc knit his brow. “Uh…” He looked down at his garments, then at his companions, then at Sigvald. “My clothes?”

Sigvald scoffed. Though he did technically receive an answer, it wasn’t the one he was asking for. “Don’t tell me your tribe raised you to have a thick head in addition to your thick hide.” he sneered.

The smaller human stopped what she was doing and went over to them. “Uh, excuse me, is there a problem here?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips. “Because if there’s not, I need you to kindly stop harassing my friend.”

“There  _ is _ a problem, I’m afraid. You’re camping on my land. You, of course, can stay. But your  _ friend, _ ” And here, he spat the word. “Must find someplace else to rest. Preferably a ditch. Or a Kroxigor-infested swamp.”

“I actually wouldn’t mind staying in the swamps,” the orc piped up. He scratched the back of his head as something lashed underneath his cloak (dear Slaanesh, was that a _ tail? _ ). “I was born and raised in Lustria. Of course, that’s what you get when you’re raised by Kroxigors. It would be like a nicer inn.”

“Absolutely, positively,  _ out _ of the goddamn question.” the small woman shot at him. “I will  _ not _ stand for letting you sleep in some dank, wet, muddy biome.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that he’s an  _ orc _ , would it?” the taller woman finally cut into the conversation. “I mean, I’m just asking.”

“Yes. It does.” Sigvald said matter-of-factly, shocking the trio with his outright-racist behavior. “I  _ despise _ orcs. They’re violent, messy and downright disgusting. I hate them almost as much as those stupid elves.”

The small woman’s eyes widened. As Sigvald continued his rant, she took off her hood, revealing a head of brown hair and a pair of pointed ears. Not  _ very _ pointy, mind you, but they were noticeable enough to make him stop talking. She stared at him, smiling expectantly. “What was that you said about elves? They’re, what’s the word… _ vacuous? Imbecilic? _ ” She shrugged. “Gee, I just can’t remember. They just… they never learned me how to memory down on the farm.”

Sigvald simply stared at the tiny elf before him, unsure of how to react. Well… she had certainly pulled an impressively-fast one on him, hadn’t she? The elf continued on, not letting her chipper attitude slip for a second. “If you paid attention to the background, you’d see we were already preparing to leave. We’ve been here all night, and we’re a pretty good distance from the borders of your fortress, and therefore can not be prosecuted for trespassing. Trust me. I did the measuring myself and I’m  _ very _ particular about accuracy.” She nodded at them. “Are we good? Good. We’ll be leaving now.”

With that, she turned away and went back to taking down the tents. The orc watched her, looked back at the troupe for a moment, and then followed her back.

As the Champion of Slaanesh, Sigvald was used to being spoiled by his godly “parent”. Ever since he fell to Chaos, he always got what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. The fact that this trio was not offering to slay themselves on his behalf -- let alone make passive-aggressive comments towards him -- was enough to send him into the most childish of rages.

He snarled loudly. Now he wanted  _ both _ of those idiots gone. “Why, you little wretch!” he yelled. “Do you have  _ any _ idea who you’re talking to?!” He drew his sword, standing proudly before the interlopers. “I am  **Sigvald** \-- the salacious, scandalous and sensational servant of Slaanesh! Son of Succubi, scion of sordid acts and slayer of squalid serfs!”

The trio stood in silence. They looked at one another, then back at Sigvald, staring at him like he’d gone mad. Then the orc drew his club and proclaimed with equal vigor “And I am Oroch,” He mimicked Sigvald’s stance. “Star of the soft-core beastiality  _ Stuck Between A Roc and A Hard Place! _ ”

The tall human suddenly shrieked with laughter. The elf’s eyes and she started speed-walking away from her comrades, covering her mouth as she stared at the ground. Moments later, she came back to them, taking the shield from her back and pushing it towards the orc’s hands. “You’re gonna need this, because  _ I’m about to kill you- _ ” she wheezed, her words turning into wheezing laughter.

“ _ Ahhh!!! _ ” the tall human screamed, holding her sides. “ **_A Roc and A Hard Place!_ ** ”

Sigvald and his Guard watched the scene before them, a mixture of absolutely baffled and absolutely floored. What beings in their right minds would treat the Champion of Slaanesh with such disrespect?! Unless… Sigvald sneered at them. “Are you irritating iconoclasts intoxicated?”

The orc shrugged. “I mean, I  _ did _ have a few before we left town-”

The elf gasped in shock. “ _ Oroch!!! _ ” she cried.

“Oroch” gave her a look, unsure of what he’d done wrong. “What?” he asked. “I can’t have a few drinks before we leave?”   
  
“We left at  _ nine-thirty in the morning!!! _ ” the elf continued to protest. “Why are you drinking so early?!”

The Orc shrugged. “Because I was thirsty.”

The tall human snorted. “Yeah, we were thirsty,  _ Mom. _ ”

The elf gaped at her. She threw her hands up. “Unbelievable!!!” she cried. “Do, do I have to chaperone you everywhere we go?! Do I have to ride on your backs to make sure you don’t become alcoholics?!”

“ **Excuse me.** ” The trio looked over at Sigvald, daring to disrespect him with looks of deadpan disgust. The Champion glowered at them, gritting his teeth in likewise disgust. “Since you still refuse to heed my requests,” He drew his mighty rapier, the immaculate silver blade glimmering in the sunlight. “I order you to duel me for your right to stay.”

The elf gave him a strange look, then her eyes darkened. “It would make sense  _ Slaanesh _ has spoiled you rotten,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Not even in my nightmares did I believe I’d see such a grievous amount of entitlement, but here it is. Right in front of me.”

Oroch sniffed the air and he frowned. “I’m surprised we didn’t smell him coming,” he grumbled, pinching his nose shut. “He has such a suffocating scent, it’s triggering my allergies.”

The small elf furrowed her brow. She sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, you’re right.” she said. “It’s like perfume mixed with death. That’s… not right.”

Sigvald sneered down at his small opponent. “A child shouldn’t go running their mouth the way you do,” he said. “You would do good to  _ shut your mouth. _ ”

“It may come as a surprise that I’m twenty-six.” the elf shot back. “The only  _ child _ I see is the one in armor throwing a fit because we camped in the woods behind his house.”

Sigvald growled. “ **Listen, you-** ” He stomped towards the trio… only to be knocked backwards by a burst of white light. A surge of white energy rose around the campsite, revealing a shield of magic protecting them.

The elf covered her mouth. Her eyes were twice their size, and she stared at her hands. “It worked,” Her eyes brightened with delight. “It worked!!!” She was practically glowing with excitement, grabbing her companions’ arms and jumping for joy. “Did you guys see that?! It works!”

Oroch smiled. “Yeah, we saw.” he said. “Good for you, Abbi.”

The tall woman chuckled. “The look of amazement on your face when that happened,” she laughed. “Adorable.”

Sigvald snarled, shooing his trio of soldiers away as he picked himself up. Wonderful. It was a mage. Who thought it was a good idea to teach elves magic? It just made those disgusting things all the more of an annoyance.

The elf, apparently named Abbi, dusted her hands and smirked triumphantly at the troupe. “Well,” she said. “It would seem that you’re in a bit of a pickle  _ now _ , doesn’t it?” She laughed internally at the growing rage of the Slaanesh Champion. “I think it would be in everyone’s best interests if you just went home.”

“What is even the  _ problem _ here? That Oroch is an orc?” the tall woman asked incredulously. “We’re leaving anyway. We probably would’ve been finished packing by now if you hadn’t come down and made a scene.”

“Yeah,” Oroch put his hands on his hips. “If you just kept your racism to yourself, the problem would’ve been solved on its own.”

“Alright, children, calm down.” Abbi said before going back to address Sigvald. “Look, we see your emblems and your…” The elf paused and grimaced. “Choice of attire, and I understand. You follow a Chaos God. That's fine. But we don’t really  _ want _ to pursue your doctrine. We have our own views on religion-” 

“ _ We think it  _ **_blows._ ** ” the tall woman piped up at the Slaaneshi group. “We don’t give two shits about your dumb cult.” 

“That’s what I meant. Yes, we just don’t care.” The elf nodded in agreement to the human’s statement. “We accept and acknowledge your religion, but we have no interest in joining it. So, thank you in advance, but we do  _ not _ have a moment to hear about your lord and savior Slaanesh. I mean, why would we wish to affiliate ourselves with someone who’s massacred others over something as  _ petty _ as a hairstyle?” She sneered up at him, her once-soft eyes now filled with utter contempt. “I know this is an impossible request to get through the incredibly-thick hide of a Slaaneshi cultist, but please, think of someone else for once and let us be on our way. We’ll be gone before noon without any further interruptions.”

Sigvald growled, steam practically coming out of his ears. After such an aggravating exchange, he was ready to draw his sword and slice them all open. Then again, they were already going to do what he wanted. He snarled. “Just be quick about it.” he said. “Just get that green  _ beast _ out of here.”

The trio’s eyes widened in shock, with the tall woman turning to the other two and mouthing ‘Did he just…?’ Sigvald huffed indignantly and turned away, heading in the direction opposite from the camp.

“ **_Iris, no!!!_ ** ”

Before Sigvald knew what was happening, the tall woman had stormed up to him and swiftly smacked him in the back of the head with Abbi’s shield. A sickening  _ crack! _ resounded through the clearing and he staggered forward, nearly falling thanks to the impact. He whipped his head around as blood dripped down the back of his head, soiling his perfect locks. “ **_You wretched little-!_ ** ” He drew his sword, inciting a similar reaction from the troupe of soldiers accompanying him. 

Iris removed the bow from her back. She drew an arrow, aimed, and fired at the first soldier she saw. The arrow pierced him through the neck, killing him instantly. As the other soldiers began to rush the tiny elf, her left hand burst with blue electricity and lightning leapt from her hand, surging into the chests of any soldier it could reach. Without warning, Oroch slammed into Sigvald, sending him flying and colliding with the remaining soldiers, knocking them down like they were bowling pins. Sigvald slammed into a nearby tree trunk, and was knocked unconscious with a sickening  _ crack!. _

Oroch laughed boisterously. “Damn, we’re  _ good! _ ”

“It only worked so well because it was a surprise attack. If it was an even playing field, I doubt we would’ve made it out unscathed.” Abbi said, sparing a look back at the fallen warriors. “We need to leave.  _ Now. _ ” She stormed back to the campsite and began hastily packing up the remains of their tents. “He was hit pretty hard, but he’s gonna throw the worst tantrum when he wakes up and I don’t think I’m strong enough to actually  _ fight _ a Daemon yet.”

Iris gave her a look. “Wait, what? You were so pumped about the shield spell you put up, the stupid Champion couldn’t put a dent in it.”

“Because I’m only good for  _ defense, _ ” Abbi said, stuffing the tents into the large satchel. “The one time I did legitimately-adequate offense was when I inadvertently speared one of my fellow apprentices during a panic attack.” She shook her head. “I can’t  _ believe _ this!” she said, creating a perfect segue to go on one of her panicked rambles again. “I just  _ had _ to entertain a fight with the Champion of Slaanesh. I’m no better than a Khornite, I’m  _ worse _ than a Khornite! I’m my younger sisters!”

“Oh, my god, Abbi.” Iris groaned. “You need to calm down! So we picked a fight with someone, it’s no reason to beat ourselves up. Besides, he deserved what he got! We fought him because he was being an ass to Oroch!” She stormed over to the small elf, mimicking her frantic attempts at packing everything up.

“Think about it like this, Abbi,” Oroch tried to calm her down. “You two were just defending my honor. Sigvald was being an assbutt and took it too far, so you had to knock him down a peg.”

“Exactly!!!” Iris chimed in. “It’s just like my brother used to say -- you talk shit, you’ll get hit!”

“It doesn’t  _ matter _ how you think about this!!!” Abbi shrieked, startling her companions. “We need to  _ pack _ up, and get the  _ shit-hell _ out of here-” She pointed in the direction of the unconscious Champion. “-before he wakes up and tries to avenge his defeat!”

Iris and Oroch watched her freak out with wide-eyes, then looked at each other. Abbi choked. “I’m sorry.” she murmured, holding the sides of her head. “I just, I  _ don’t know how to deal _ with this. I’ve never gone up against something like this, and  _ you guys _ might be okay with this, but I’m not. I’m just… I’m scared.”

Iris frowned. She went to Abbi and hugged her tight. “Girl, it’s okay. Just think calm thoughts.” she soothed. “Don’t give me any of the ‘wasting time by comforting you’ crap. Your mental health is important.”

Abbi sobbed softly, face-planting on Iris’s chest and sobbing to herself. Iris rubbed the back of her head. They were silent for a few more moments before Abbi broke away from the hug and rubbed her eyes on her sleeve. “It’s fine now. I’m fine.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay,” she sighed. “Back to packing.”

With Oroch and Iris joining her, the rest of the camp was packed up much faster than they hoped. They pulled whatever bags they could onto their backs and booked it into the surrounding forest. Soon, they had vanished from sight. But unfortunately, not from mind.

Dark tendrils emerged from the unconscious Champion’s armor, soothing the angry cut on the back of his head. Sigvald’s eyes snapped open, and he shot to his feet, instantly surveying the clearing as white-hot rage coursed through his veins. How  _ dare _ they. How  **_dare they_ ** launch an attack on him and kill his warriors. And, quite possibly the most atrocious atrocity, they had  _ dared _ to sully his perfect hair with his own blood! Granted, he very much preferred being stained with his own superior blood than the fluids of filthy commoners, but the audacity to attack him was what insulted him above all else.

Sigvald growled, his rage becoming more akin to a Khornite Berserker than a Champion of Excess, and got to his feet. He drew his treasured Sliverslash and began to stab the fallen form of one of his so-called  _ elite _ guards. Some  _ elites _ they were. Jumped and defeated by an  _ elf _ and an  _ orc! _ A  _ half-breed _ elf and orc, no less! He execrated elves and possessed an inordinate amount of odium for orcs, but he was absolutely abhorred by the idea that anyone would have the audacity to procreate with such asinine creatures. 

He grit his teeth and drove his rapier deep into the corpse of the fallen man, his eyes burning with the fire of rage. Then it clicked. Of course. He knew where he went wrong. These soldiers were  _ men. _ Blessed by Slaanesh, that they were. But they were still  _ men _ ; all with similar weaknesses and pathetically  _ ordinary _ . It was no wonder they were able to be defeated so effortlessly.

A depraved smile grew on his face. He turned away from the clearing and strode back in the direction of his fortress. He knew  _ exactly _ what form of warrior could bring these imbecilic ingrates to their inevitable expiration.

  
  


___/*\\___

  
  


Abbi puffed as she trudged up the hill, sweating profusely even with her hood up to block the sun from her eyes. As she reached the top of the hill, she fell to her knees and groaned loudly. “Ohh, I am really out of shape.”

Iris and Oroch looked down at her, amused. “I’m surprised you can even keep up with those little legs.” Iris snorted.

  
Abbi frowned at her and got back to her feet. “Thanks for making me so short,  _ Dad _ .” she muttered to herself.

Oroch snickered at the small argument, but his ears twitched and he looked up. Something didn’t feel right. They should have been away from the danger zone, but the voice in the back of his mind was telling him otherwise. It almost felt like…

He looked behind him, and his eyes widened. “Uh, guys?” He pointed at the hill. The girls looked behind them, and they mimicked his expression.

Daemonettes -- creamy-skinned, horn-haired, honey-dripping daemonic servants of the Dark Prince. Despite their sole existence being to service the Prince of Pleasure, pain was the only gift they brought to the mortal plane. And leading the pack was the blonde bastard Sigvald, smiling with all the smugness of a wolf that had cornered its prey. “You abhorrent ax wounds didn’t  _ really _ believe you’d be able to abscond from me, did you?” he sneered at them.

They had been followed.

Abbi growled loudly. “I  _ told _ you he was going to come after us!” she yelled. “If you hadn’t-”

“Don’t.” Iris shot at her. “If you say that us trying to stop your stress-induced breakdown is what sealed our doom, I will convert to Slaanesh and stab you myself.”

“ **You!!!** ” the Champion yelled at them, his handsome face turned sour by his rage. “How  _ dare _ you sickening scoundrels strive to soil my superlative physique!!!” He gestured to the bruise on his head, which was almost completely gone and no longer noticeable. “You will  _ pay _ for crossing me. All of you will  _ pay _ for daring to cross a Champion of Slaanesh!!!” He drew Sliverslash, holding it out for all to see. “ **_Attack!!! Leave nothing but corpses!!!_ ** ”

The Daemonettes rushed the trio, their porcelain faces bearing twisted grins of equally-twisted excitement. Oh, what glorious pain was there to be wrought! The Dark Prince would surely be pleased with the outcome of this fight! Their honeyed voices rose in joyous songs of praise to their god as they readied their claws, prepared to kill and maim in the name of agony and pleasure.

Oroch drew his club and ran to the creatures. He swung at each one, cracking one in the head and sending it to the ground in a puddle of blood. One of the daemons broke the circle and headed right for Abbi, cooing at the fear on her tiny face.

Abbi frantically drew her shield, visibly recoiling at the sight of the daemon rushing her. Her palms surged with blue electricity, and a large energy shield appeared around the material one. As the Daemonette struck her shield, a crackle of lightning burst from it, illuminating both it and its victim. The daemon’s lips curled in a coy smile. “ _ Why fight? _ ” it cooed, striking the shield once more and making Abbi take a step back with the impact. “ _ You only yearn for an embrace. We can give you that. _ ”

As it continued to try and break the shield, another Daemonette broke the line to try to take the tiny elf from behind. Abbi shrieked when she saw the blur of creamy porcelain and instinctively summoned a second shield on her right arm to block the second daemon. The second Daemonette took to singing more honeyed songs to try and sway its victim’s resistance. “ _ It doesn’t have to be this way, _ ” it hissed. “ _ Just let us in…we can make it all better… _ ”

Abbi keened anxiously as she broke out in a cold sweat. “I need an adult!!!” Then she knit her brow and her expression became deadpan. “Wait.” she came to her realization. “I  _ am _ an adult.”

The Daemonettes hissed, and Abbi’s right palm began to glow. She dropped her shields for just a moment and her opponents were blasted with a beacon of holy light. They shrieked in agony as they crumbled to dust, vanishing from the mortal plane. Abbi caught her breath, trying to steady her anxious heart.

One of the horde members attacking Oroch slashed his back with its large claws, only to be speared through the head by a large arrow. Iris chuckled as the Daemonette fell to the ground, dead as a doorstop. “Enchanting our weapons was the best idea ya ever had, Abbi!” she said. Abbi laughed sheepishly as she tried to fend off another Daemonette with her shield.

Iris drew another arrow and aimed for a second Daemonette. She whistled at it and fired. When the daemon turned its head, the arrow nailed it right through the eye. As she drew another arrow, a third Daemonette hissed and broke away from the group attacking Oroch. It slunk into the bushes, aiming to attack Iris from behind. Iris, none the wiser, shot a Daemonette trying to break Abbi’s shield. Every time she hit one, a sense of shot enfroida went through her. These daemons didn’t stand a chance against her! She was shooting them down like the crows that used to perch on her roof!

But her excitement was not to last. All she heard was a frantic scream of her name before her eyes went wide. She retched violently as boiling hot blood surged from her mouth, and from the wound in her stomach where the daemon ran her through with its darkened claws.

Oroch saw red. He immediately abandoned his fight with the other two Daemonettes and made a beeline for his fallen friend. He slammed his entire weight into the offending Daemonette before he lifted it above his head, and his powerful hands snapped its body in two as if it was a frail little stick. With a mighty “ **_WAAAGH!!!_ ** ”, he chucked the halves of the daemon across the field, knocking one foe over and throwing the other one at Sigvald. Thankfully, the Champion was quick enough to raise his shield and prevent the disgusting dead body from soiling his face with its fluids.

As Oroch charged headfirst into the swarm of daemons, Abbi went to Iris at a rapid speed, holding her shield over her head in a meager attempt to deflect oncoming attacks. The mark on her right hand began to give off a brilliant glow, and her eyes brightened along with it. Small hummocks began to form in the ground surrounding their attackers, and in each mound appeared a door.

Sigvald looked from the doors to the tiny elf in the background, laughing spitefully as he mocked her efforts. “Is that all you can do-?!”

A horrified screech rang from one of the Daemonettes, and Sigvald turned to watch the doors burst open, and out poured a horde of the most hideous brown-skinned creatures. They were the size of a human head, and resembled a mole in appearance, but their bodies were shrivelled beyond recognition. His daemonic forces were swarmed by the creatures, dragged against their will into the doors. One by one, each door slammed shut and sunk into the earth.

The Geld Prince was utterly shocked at how fast his army was disappearing that he had failed to notice the mole creatures scuttling up his own legs. He let out a disgusted screech (most ungentlemanlike, however he was not a gentleman in this scenario), and started doing all he 

“ **_How?!_ ** ” he screamed, stabbing and slashing every one of the disgusting moles that dared to scar his perfect skin with their claws. But they just kept coming. It was almost as if there was an infinite supply of these things. “ **_How could you stupid, stupid mortals somehow manage to subjuagte me?!_ ** ”

Oroch stood over him, baring his tusks in a disgusted scowl. He snarled, and plunged his foot into the abhorred Champion’s face, pushing him down into the dirt.

Sigvald’s screams of rage were cut short by the door slamming shut and disappearing into the dirt. Oroch snarled to himself in a strange language before spitting on the place the Geld Prince had disappeared into and turning back to his friends. Iris was looking a bit better, but Abbi looked a bit worse for wear. The longer her hand and eyes pulsed with magic, the larger toll it was going to take on her body. Oroch’s own eyes widened when the glow became brighter, and he covered his face with his cloak as a blinding flash of light exploded from Abbi’s person.

When he was sure the flash had died down, he peeked over his cloak. Abbi was no longer glowing, and Iris looked much better than she did before, though she was still bleeding. Abbi fell to her knees, looking quite the worse for wear. She gasped for air as her eyes glazed over, and Oroch went to the pair of women. He picked up Iris in his arms and looked to Abbi. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Can you walk?”

Abbi clutched her stomach and swallowed thickly. “Give… me a second…” she panted. She coughed loudly before struggling to her feet and giving him a weak smile. “That should give us at least another hour. The next town isn’t far from here, I’m sure.”

Oroch knit his brow, extremely worried for  _ both _ his friends. He started after the small elf, making sure to keep a close eye on her as she wobbled while she walked.

  
  


Eventually, thank the stars, they reached a town -- to their delight, one with an inn. Abbi and Oroch made a beeline for the inn, ignoring the strange looks they got from the townspeople, and Abbi nearly kicked down the door. The pair pushed through the crowd of raucous patrons and went to the bar. “Pardon the intrusion,” Abbi issued her breathless proclamation to the startled man behind the bar. “But would you happen to know where the innkeeper is?”

The startled barkeep pointed in the direction of a tall, burly-looking man, and Abbi shot off in his direction, leaving Oroch and Iris behind. Oroch looked around, his face turning red as the glares from the other patrons caused his social anxiety to skyrocket with every passing second.

Abbi, meanwhile, stormed through the crowd of the bar patrons until she got to the supposed innkeeper. “Hello,” The innkeeper, who positively dwarfed this tiny thing, looked down at her in confusion. “My friends and I need a room as soon as we can get one, our friend is hurt-” She took a sack of gold coins out from her satchel and held it up to him. “-and I know this might not be enough for one night, but it’s really all I’ve got and-”

The innkeeper took the pouch of coins from her. “Kid, it’s fine.” He took a key out of his apron pocket and put it in her hands. “Just find the door that matches the number.” He looked over at the large green man dying in silence at the bar. “Just get your friends up there and lock the door. I don’t want any unsavories following you up there because of the company you keep.”

Abbi let go a breath she didn’t know she was holding and began thanking the innkeeper profusely. Then she turned on her heel and bolted back to Oroch and Iris, holding the room key triumphantly. “Upstairs. Come on!” she chirped, going around the orc and making overly-exaggerated motions for him to follow her. Oroch did so, but kept close behind and kept his head down. He could definitely do without all of the angry stares.

  
  


That night, with the moon high above the sky, the trio was now cooped up in their room for the night, each decked out in their respective sleepwear. Iris lay in the middle bed, wincing as Abbi dressed her wound for the second time that night. “Thank the gods that the room has three beds.” Iris groaned. “Nobody has to sleep on the floor tonight.”

Abbi stood over her, her right hand pulsing with energy as she cast a healing spell on Iris’s wound whilst simultaneously averting her eyes from any nakedness. “Are you  _ sure _ you’re alright?” she asked. “I can’t make one more bar run for you?”

“No,” Iris said firmly. “You’re already in your pajamas. Plus, I don’t need you frettin’ over me.”

“I’m not fretting!” Abbi responded immediately, her cheeks turning red when she realized she’d snapped again. “I’m just, I’m concerned about your wound.” She went back to replacing the bandages. “You were run through by a Daemonette. And-and not just  _ any _ Daemonette, one summoned by a Chaos Champion. I don’t know if the fact that it was summoned by the Slaanesh champion will affect how long this will take to heal.”

“Some champion  _ that _ warmblood was.” Oroch groaned, leaning back against the headboard. “He didn’t stand a chance the first time and who beat him the second? A vertically-challenged mage.” Abbi looked up at him, frowning deeply at the mention of her height.

“Come on. You pulled our butts out of the fire, too.” Iris said. “If  _ you _ hadn’t been so pissed off to actually step on his face, I don’t have a doubt that he would’ve gotten out and screamed at us for getting his armor dirty.”

Abbi sighed. “If we hadn’t been blessed the way we were, I doubt the battle would’ve even begun.” she said. “It’s thanks to our patron deities that we’re able to resist the Chaos Gods at all.” She smiled to herself. “That being said…” she began. “It was an impressive victory. Considering the respective rap sheets of ourselves and Sigvald, I’d say we’re going to come out looking like total legends or total liars.”

Iris grinned at Oroch. “Hey, we can’t lose. Either way, we’ll be total something.” she said. Oroch laughed boisterously at her comment.

“Hey, speaking of,” Abbi said, picking up the bandages and wrapping them around Iris’s wound. “How have you not broken the bed yet? Shouldn’t it have broken under your weight at this point?” Oroch gaped at her, frowning when she laughed. “You make fun of my height, I make fun of your weight.” she snickered. “Although I am sorry. You’re a big guy and you have a big body to match. I shouldn’t make fun of that.”

“Yeah, an’ you’re actually pretty lean for an orc.” Iris piped up. “Must be the Lizardmen diet, I’d wager.”

Oroch shrugged. “I’d wager your wager is correct.” he said. “Personally, I don’t even know.”

Abbi took Iris’s knife, which was laying in a completely unsafe spot on a nightstand, and cut the bandage wrap from the roll. “There.” She smoothed down the wrap on Iris’s stomach. “All better.”

Iris smiled up at her friend and patted her stomach. “Don’t you worry, belly of mine.” she said. “We’ll be back to downing five pints a morning soon enough.” She laughed sheepishly when she saw Abbi glare at her and held up her hands in mock surrender. “I’m joking, I’m joking.” she chuckled. When Abbi turned her back, Iris turned to Oroch and shook her head, giving him a wink and covert thumbs-up.

Oroch raised his eyebrows, grinning knowingly as he reached for the lit candle near his bed and blew it out. Abbi pulled back the sheets on her bed and climbed in. “Everyone comfortable?” she asked. “I don’t want to have to relight this candle every time someone forgets where the bathroom is.”

Iris yawned and pulled the covers up to her chest. “We can just pee out the window. Nobody will know.”

“ _ We _ would know.” Oroch said, shuffling in the bed, trying to get in a position that would allow the bed to accommodate his large physique (thank Sotek he’d thought to use his cloak as an extra blanket). When he found a position that he liked, he gave a thumbs-up. “All good.”

Abbi blew out the candle, and snuggled into the blankets as darkness encompassed the room. Before she closed her eyes, she uttered to herself a soft prayer. “ _ I thank thee, Shallya, for your love and your light. I pray that thy embrace and thy guidance may lead me down the path of that which is good and honorable. Protect us so we may protect and bestow thy gifts upon our world.” _

She smiled softly to herself, and closed her eyes. She may have had a hard time corralling her friends’ antics (so as to keep collateral damage to a minimum), but with them, she was having the time of her life.

These three mortals -- orc, human, and elf -- did not have the faintest notion what their future held for them. All their lives, they had felt so different -- alienated from where they were welcomed, like strangers in a strange land. Each was an outcast in shape and form, and by nothing short of a miracle, they had managed to find one another and cultivate a friendship that inspired them to grow cities, move mountains, and even fistfight gods to protect one another.

Though they may have been strange, they still had each other. They were misfits all, and when they were together, they truly felt at home.

And nothing, not even Chaos, would be enough to take that away from them.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to get creative with synonyms when writing Sigvald's dialogue. He uses a shit-ton of alliteration, and it kind of got annoying after a while.
> 
> Translations:  
> cho: warm-blood, ignorant (Saurian slur)


End file.
